History, and the Repetition Of
by hollyhobbit101
Summary: They say that history is doomed to repeat itself. The same songs, but in different words, over and over again. As it is with everything, so it is with wizards.


**A/N: For the Houses Competition**

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Year: 5**

 **Category: Short**

 **Prompt: There and Back Again**

 **Word count: 1455 (sorry)**

* * *

There is a saying that history is doomed to repeat itself, time and time again. That all the books and stories of the past shall be rewritten; the same verse in different words. That everything will, eventually come full circle, and the mistakes of generations gone by will always come back to haunt the future.

It is an interesting theory, and one that cannot be considered entirely wrong. And yet, when history is looked at, perhaps it is not only the mistakes of the past that are brought back, but the successes too. Perhaps, there is some hope for the future after all.

* * *

Once upon a time, the darkest wizard in known history had stood opposite a child with black hair and bright green eyes. He'd levelled his wand at the boy, feeling victorious at last. With this one act of final cruelty, he would break the Order forever, for it was well-known that the Potters were two of its most loyal members.

' _Avada Kedavra',_ he had hissed, knowing that, in a few short moments, the boy would be dead with his parents, and he would be free to rule.

But Harry Potter had lived, and He Who Must Not Be Named had died.

At least, this was the story that was told in whispers and shouts in the days and years after the fact. This was the story that is repeated in books written with presumptions turned into truth.

For no one knew what happened that night, not really, not all of it. They only knew that He Who Must Not Be Named had gone to Godric's Hollow on Halloween night, 1981 - reason unknown, but thought to be just another part of his genocide. He entered the Potter's cottage and murdered James and Lily Potter - James first. He tried to kill Harry Potter, but his curse had rebounded, killing himself instead. Those were the facts. But facts and truth can sometimes be very different things, and the truth of October 31st, 1981 still remained a mystery to everyone. Everyone, that is, but the dead and their one-year old son.

Few people even suspected that You Know Who had survived, fewer still that he would someday return to finish what he had started. It seemed impossible - one person surviving the Killing Curse was one thing, but two, and on the same night? No, it simply couldn't be. You Know Who was dead, and that was the end of it.

But, as the saying goes, history repeats. The man calling himself Lord Voldemort was but a shadow of himself, but he would be reborn. He hid himself away until he had regained some of his old strength and ability, always remembering the child who was destined to defeat him, as he had nearly done that fateful night in Godric's Hollow.

* * *

Ten years after the Potters' murder, he managed to attach himself to Quirinus Quirrell, a small, weak-minded man who lusted for power and recognition. He was not a strong wizard, but he would do for the time being. His will was feeble, and that was the most important thing as it made him easier to control and manipulate.

Ten years later, He Who Must Not Be Named and Harry Potter met in the bowels of Hogwarts School. The boy was weak, and he had barely scratched the surface of his true magical potential. Perhaps someday he would be a great wizard, but not now, not now. He would be easy to kill, even by someone as puny as Quirrell.

And yet, as it had been so many years before, Harry Potter lived and Voldemort fled, leaving a dead man in his wake.

 _(History repeats)_

So it was the next year, in the Chamber of Secrets. Against all odds, The Boy Who Lived refused to die, and so the cycle continued, going round and round and round.

These are the stories that would never be told in full in the history books. As they say, dead men cannot tell tales, and, besides, who would have believed them? You Know Who was dead, after all.

* * *

When He Who Must Not Be Named returned in a graveyard surrounded by Death Eaters and the bones of his father, he once again threw the Killing Curse at the boy with black hair and green eyes. And, once again, the curse was forcefully returned, not killing him this time, but expelling his past sins.

Something else that is not well known about that first attempt on Harry Potter's life - he was not saved by Fate, or some innate, natural power of his own. He was saved by his mother's sacrifice, made in the name of unconditional love for her son.

And, once again, a mother's love saved her child and Harry Potter lived on. But so did the Dark Lord, and history was not done with them yet. Their story was yet to finally come full circle and end for good.

After his return, history began to unfurl rapidly, and it would be impossible for even the simplest of minds not the make the connections between the first war and this one. People began to disappear, only for their bodies to turn up months later. Dark magic spread across the country, turning or killing one witch or wizard after another. All the lights that had been relit after Godric's Hollow were slowly extinguished one by one. It was an all too familiar kind of chaos and destruction.

But the thing is, none of that mattered, not when it comes down to it. The deaths, the carnage, the anarchy - it was all just for show. For power, which came into the wrong hands far too easily in those days. The true war lay behind all of that, as it always had, raging quietly in the background, yet it was without doubt the most important part in the history books which were soon to be (re)written.

The true war was a single battle, one that had been fought for sixteen long years. As it had been prophesied long ago, this great war could only be ended by the Boy Who Lived and He Who Must Not Be Named.

When that long-awaited battle had taken place, when one of their bodies was laid out, cold and dead on the ground; only then could the fate of the rest of the world be determined.

* * *

It happened in a forest, surrounded by Death Eaters and the ghosts of the past, although it could have just been those two men, for all that it mattered.

He Who Must Not Be Named raised his wand, smiling with glee at the simplicity of it all. Two words and he would be free to rule unopposed. Two words, and Harry Potter would finally be dead.

' _Avada Kedavra,'_ he hissed again, and the boy dropped. It was over.

And yet.

There were magics that a man such as Tom Riddle could never have understood, even if he had known about them. The magic of love and sacrifice, of a life given selflessly, as Lily Potter had done, for example. And now, the dark magic of Horcruxes that he had once wielded so skillfully was the cause of his own undoing, even if he never knew it. Harry Potter's heart beat again, and history continued to turn over.

 _(It is not widely known that, as before, the love of a mother for her son saved Harry Potter's life again that night.)_

 _(History repeats.)_

The Boy Who Lived and He Who Must Not Be Named faced off one final time, raising their wands and casting a spell at the same time. Their magic met in the middle, bursting into flame and energy.

The Dark Lord was strong, but, as it has always been in their war, he had not accounted for love. Harry's love for his friends, for his family, and for a peaceful, better world was stronger still, and so, like it had done sixteen years ago, the Killing Curse rebounded.

Once upon a time, the darkest wizard in known history stood opposite a child with black hair and bright green eyes. He'd thought that nothing could stop him now, despite the events in the Forbidden Forest, despite everything that had happened in the many years they had been fighting this war. Whatever power Harry Potter had concealed in him had surely been killed off, or ruined by death and grief. He had cast his spell, feeling victorious at last, and certain that, this time, the boy would die.

But Harry Potter lived, and Voldemort died, nothing more than a man in the end.

History had finally come full circle. At long last, the war was finally over, now and for good.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry, I know this was no good, but it was all I had. Thanks for reading**


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